


To Bake A Butler A Cake

by RagingBookDragon



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingBookDragon/pseuds/RagingBookDragon
Summary: It should not be this hard to bake a cake! But low and behold, the Batfamily can make any simple task difficult. Hopefully Alfred's kitchen is intact by the time he gets home!
Kudos: 42





	To Bake A Butler A Cake

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was actually a collaboration between livia-art and I! You can find her on Tumblr using that name! You might recognize her from our previous collab, 'How Rare And Beautiful It Is That We Exist'! We hope you enjoy and go check out her blog! You can find this on both out tumblrs! 'livia-art' and 'RagingBookDragon'! -Thorne <3

__

_It shouldn’t be this hard to bake a cake,_ he thinks, but as he looks between the ingredients and utensils, the stress is beginning to overwhelm him. It must’ve shown on his face, because there’s a grunt beside him, and the next thing he knows, the cookbook is being ripped out of his hands. “Jesus Christ Bruce. We’re _baking a cake_ , not performing _rocket science_.” Instantly, the confusion is replaced by annoyance, and he turns to stare at Jason, the words flowing before he can stop them.

“Well for your information Jay, _rocket science is actually something I **can** do._” All Jason returns is a shit-eating grin, placing a hand on his shoulder, gently shoving him out of the way. Bruce relents, stepping a few feet away, and takes a moment to look at his second oldest. Side by side, Bruce is the tallest, but Jason’s only a couple inches shorter. In an instance, he feels old, images of a hunched-over old man cross his mind, tall sons surrounding him, and a grimace forms on his face as he thinks about pulling a Ra’s and staying young…and _tall_. Laughter draws him from his thoughts, and he turns his gaze to the island where Dick is hanging on one of Jason’s arms, pointing into the book.

“Oh, come on! Alfie likes red velvet cake!” Jason pays Dick no mind, teal eyes scanning the page of the book as he absentmindedly replies,

“We’re baking a chocolate cake Dick.” A pout takes over the eldest’s face and he moves off his brother, sprawling over the counter, whining,

_“But why?”_ Jason’s eyes dart to his brother, staring at him for a moment before he glances at his father and deadpans,

**“You raised this thing. I hope you know that.”** The truth in his words is all it takes to make Bruce snort and nod, grin widening as he listens to Dick sputter something along the lines of, _‘what’s that supposed to mean?!’_ Jason glances back at the book, then leans over, placing the book in front of Tim’s face above his phone. “Read this.” Cerulean eyes narrow into a glare as Tim looks up from his phone to stare at Jason, who simply nods to the book. “You retain anything you read. Do this and we won’t have to worry about looking back at the book a bunch of times.” Tim huffs and pulls the book from his hands, and in a flash, closes it and repeats,

“One box of cake mix, three eggs, one cup of oil, one cup of milk, and one vanilla packet. Frosting needs one container of whip cream, one package of cream cheese, one cup of powdered sugar, and four chocolate bars.” He doesn’t even stop to breathe, the words still coming out of his mouth like rapid firing bullets. “Mix the cake ingredients and bake at-” A hand clamps over his mouth and he glances up at Dick, wide eyed.

_“Tim, little brother. For the love of god, take a breath.”_ To emphasize his point, Dick makes a serious face and breathes in deeply; the action makes Tim roll his eyes, but nevertheless, he does the same, taking in a good lungful of air. The hand falls away from his mouth and Dick moves behind him, resting his chin atop Tim’s head as he asks, “So why are we making Alfie a cake again?” This time, it’s not Jason giving the reasoning, but Damian, who hops onto the counter, pulling the metal bowl into his lap, legs crossed in front of him.

“Because Pennyworth has successfully served the Wayne family for forty years, and we are celebrating it.” He levels Dick with a glower and bites, _“Pay better attention Richard.”_ Damian pauses, but can’t help to add, “ _Drake is supposed to be the imbecile in this family.”_ Dick hums, reaching out to grab the arm Tim is slinging in his younger brother’s direction, and replies,

“Kiddo, I just got here five minutes ago. I missed the game plan.” Damian’s follow-up is cut off by Jason, who retorts,

“I don’t really think you can get out of this one considering the fact that we’ve been talking about this for a whole month now Dickiebird.” Their eldest’s mouth flops open and closed as he flounders like a fish for a response. Jason looks up at him and flashes him a grin, partly telling him that he’s joking, but the other part telling him he’s hit the nail on the head; Dick stands up straight, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I forget things easily. You can’t blame me for that one.” Tim spares a glance towards Bruce and questions seriously,

**_“Are you sure he’s the one you want to leave the Batman mantle to? Batman isn’t supposed to forget things.”_** Laughter echoes through the kitchen as Dick raises his hands above his head in defeat, crying,

_“What is this? Crap on Dick day?”_ He’s not too occupied in his hysteria, because he catches the whisk Jason tosses at him.

**“Don’t know about you Dickiebird, but everyday is ‘Crap on Dick Day’.”** Tim and Damian let out snickers as they watch Dick pout, but Bruce simply reaches over, ruffling his hair.

“It’s okay Dick. I still love you son.” The smile that crosses his lips is nothing short of superior as he sticks his tongue out at his brothers. He stops as Bruce nudges him, and Bruce looks back at Jason, an easy look on his face as he says, _“Well Jaybird…let’s bake a cake.”_

**An Hour Later:**

_It. Should. Not. Be. This. Hard. To. Bake. A. Cake._ He thinks as he cradles his head in his hands, listening to the screeches sound in the kitchen. The last time he looked around, chocolate batter had been splattered across the kitchen cabinets and all four of his sons had engaged in a friendly discussion (enemy confrontation). Bruce chances a glance up and stares in shock as he watches his two youngest and two oldest in two separate fights.

Tim’s got Damian curled into a headlock, one arm wrapped around his head, the other reaching for the bowl that Damian’s holding away from him. “Let go of me Drake! _You_ get the _spoon_! It’s _my_ turn to have the _bowl_!” Tim flails for the batter-bowl and retorts,

_“Oh yeah?! Says who?!”_ If Damian could bite Tim, he’d be sinking his teeth into pale skin, but since he can’t, he thrashes wildly, trying to be free of him.

_“Says me! Let go!”_ Bruce shifts his eyes to Dick and Jason, who are bent over the counter, Jason’s palm pressed up against Dick’s cheek as he keeps him at arm’s length.

**“Fuck off Dickhead! I’m icing the cake!”** The whine that tears from Dick’s throat reminds him of the dinosaur calls from the museum exhibits, and he watches as Dick pulls at the icing bag in Jason’s hand.

_“I have the better designing ability!”_

**“The hell you do! Remember Discowing?! Trash!”** A grin spreads on Bruce’s lips at the insult, but it quickly forms into a frown as Dick snaps back,

_“This coming from the person who wears a giant red helmet on his head! Jerk!”_

**“Bitch!”** The contemplation to jump in crosses his mind, but before he can get to it, a shadow falls across the doorway and an accented voice cuts over the yelling.

**_“What. On. Earth. Is going on in my kitchen?!”_** Everyone is frozen in their spots as they direct their gazes to the kitchen’s entrance, seeing Alfred standing there, a mixture of anger and wonder etched across his face. Somehow, the universal signal has gone off in his son’s heads as they immediately let go of one another, pointer fingers directed back at Bruce. They aren’t looking, so they can’t see the look of betrayed shock that’s taken over his features, but one look from Alfred has him sweating in his house slippers as he sputters,

_“We were making you a cake to honor your service to the family, but it’s not really service, because you’re not just a butler to our family Alfred. You’re so much more than that. You’re a father and grandfather, and I don’t think any of us would be who we are today if it wasn’t for you.”_ There’s a moment of hesitation before Bruce adds quietly, _“Especially me.”_ The anger in Alfred’s gaze dissipates in a flash, replaced with a soft look as he glances between his family and asks,

**_“You did this…for me?”_** The smiles they give him could’ve beat the sun’s brightness by a mile as they nod, and Alfred breaks into one of his own. **_“Thank you, my boys…truly…thank you.”_** All the reflexes in the world couldn’t prepare him for the tidal wave of grandsons that slam into him, arms wrapping all around him. The shock shifts to warmth as he holds onto his family, and as he opens his eyes, he sees his only son standing behind his family. Alfred holds out his hand and murmurs, **_“I might be the glue that holds us all together, but you’re the key piece Master Bru-son.”_**

If anyone had asked, it was a piece of dust that caught in Bruce’s eyes and made them water. But no one would ask, because it wasn’t important to differentiate. There was love in their family; the favorite butler and a chocolate cake could prove it.


End file.
